When the Vines of Fate Intertwine
by cupcakekiller12
Summary: When a strange man with no memory of his past is found outside of Camelot, Arthur and Merlin attempt to help. As the man tries to figure what memories he lost; the people from his past come to find him. But as he figures out who he is now and who he was before...will he want to go back?


**Hello there; this is a new story I'm testing out. Hope you like you; reminder I don't own Merlin or anything related to the Merlin series. SO I hope you like the new story-so sit back, relax, and enjoy the read-cupcakekiller12**

The forest around Camelot is huge; large enough for several cities to grow and still have enough room for more. Needless to say it is easy to get lost it and effortless to hide in; any fool-if they're smart enough-can hide a whole village. They just need to avoid smoke stacks and leaving their torches on in the middle of the night.

But if anyone set up a village near Camelot-be ready to hide anything closely related to magic, because if seen, you are a traitor and are sentenced to death. Which is you should choose your friends wisely-snitches are more present then ever now that magic is banned. In fact they get paid to spill secrets-so be wise and careful with whom you share your private thoughts to.

That is why it was so surprising to hear that small village-not even a village, a camp at most, was practicing magic so close to Camelot and its hypocrite king. Uther sent his knights of course, no sorcery will be tolerated-not even the smallest and kindest acts.

The camp wasn't big; twenty tents maybe, several fire pits still simmering out. Colorful articles of clothing were hung by string connected to trees. Books, pots, pans, were scattered through out the place as well as toys, drawings, and harmless weapons . Food was still cooking on the fires-yet no one was tending or checking up on it. Actually-from afar it looks like no one is around, but as the king's men ventured further they saw still bodies lying lifelessly on the ground.

Arthur sighed as he stated his orders, "Look for survivors,"  
His father's knights nodded as his manservant came to his side, "Are you sure there are any?"

The uncrowned prince did not shrug but merely avoided the warlock's, "We always have to check Merlin-it's in the knight's code."

As they took a look around all they saw were bodies of young children, their parents, and some elders. No one was breathing; no one had their eyes open, everyone-all of them pale and dead.  
The young warlock eyes tried to take in the sight but all he could do was stare at his feet and even that was painful at times. As he walked he saw more death…he tried to get over it but every time he saw a small kid, not even his age yet on the ground, their cloths stained with blood and their skin cool and ghost white, it made the lunch in his stomach threaten to come up.

"Merlin," Arthur yelled from across the camp, "come here-quickly."  
Obediently he jogged over to where the uncrowned price was confused, "Yeah, what is it Arthur?"

Standing up with his armor and red cape his master looked at him, "We need to get this man to Gaius."

"What-" looking down he saw a man, a knight by the looks of it. He was pale, feverish, and shallow breathing-almost all the signs of being poisoned. The young man didn't seem to have the energy to sit up; the only thing keeping him from being on the ground was a collapsed tree that had fallen due to a previous fight.

Merlin did no recognize the young man; however his face was strikingly similar to someone he had seen before. The man's features were weary with exhaustion and his cloths equally covered in sweat, speckled with blood, and pale with sickness. Death hadn't claimed his soul yet but he was surely close to it.

"What are you doing just standing there?" Arthur demanded as he began to lift the man, "Help me get him on one of the horses."

Then an iron arrow flew through the air, its path was supposed to end in Arthur's heart. Merlin was too late to catch it with his magic-but in one fluid motion the sick and weary man released himself from the hands of the prince and the warlock and put himself in the path of the arrow.

Once the arrow hit him in the shoulder it was obvious that he could feel the pain-even though most of his body already felt like as if it were on fire. You'd think after awhile you'd just become numb-but this pain was special. It never faded; it kept coming like waves crashing on beach.

But the man didn't make it half way down to the ground before officially passing out. Nobody could run fast enough to catch him. He just fell into the brown dirt while the knights boredly standing around, scrambled to see what was attacking them.  
"Take him to Camelot," Arthur ordered right before hoping on the back of his own stead and beginning his journey back home.

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Gaius could only heal the physical wounds on the man; but the poison he had never seen before. It was magical but not a curse. There's no enchantment or core cause of the reason he was feverish or struggling to breathe; so if he can't tell what the poison is or how it got into his system-the man will surely die…and no one will be happy about.

"Is they anything you can do?" Merlin wondered standing by the unidentified man.

Gaius shrugged hopelessly, "I can't do anything without the poison."  
The affects of the poison were strange. His hair, on the ride to Camelot it used to be raven black, but slowly it began to turn to shade of icy blonde and his eyes continue to have less of an oaky color and more of an ocean blue hue. The elderly warlock can explain this-it must be magic or sorcery at work-yet there is no clue to what is casting it.

"Do you know what's poisoning him?" The young warlock asked, clearly oblivious to the older man's confusion.

The grey haired man shook his head, "No…I'm sorry Merlin."

Suddenly the man grabbed the short haired boy, "Emrys, the sword…you have to break the sword." His voice was rasp and weak, clearly showing death is has started to take him, "The sword…the marked sword…" using up the last of his strength his brown, sapphire eyes rolled to the back of his head and from there on, the only sounds coming from him were ragged breaths.

The sword he was talking about belongs to an ancient king; his kingdom was huge-said to stretch for kilometers into the horizon. But the king wasn't a nice ruler-he used magic to gain his power; and his people hated him for it. After many years of cruel and unjust rule, a sorcerer decided to take back what the unfair king had taken-his freedom. It took a single year to forge, and another half to enchant, the magic going into that sword would not just make the king die-but suffer. It would turn him, change him, keep him alive and in pain-not enough for him to be unconscious but the magic would make him to feel like he's about it die. And the sword did it's job…but once it was used others wanted it-they wanted to make others like it-so the sorcerer hid it in only a place only a fool would look to hide it.

Under the tomb of the unfair king

Who ever found it must have gone through some serious trouble. Those grounds he was buried in are supposedly cursed and they are full of unwary bandits that did not care whom they killed to receive their treasure. Anyone with a death wish goes there-so the question is-who's death wish was it?

"How much time does he have left?"

"A few days at most." Gaius informed,

"Then we'll leave at first light-we have to find that sword Giaus." Merlin pointed out as he went to go collect his things.

"Merlin…do you know this man?" Gaius asked carefully as he looked at his assistant.

The young man shook his head as he packed his leather satchel, "Never seen him before in my life-why?"

The sorcerer looked clearly confused. He knew that the man had said his name-but he could have just heard Gaius talking to him and he's under the affects of Poison. There's no telling if he even knows what he is talking about.

But that wasn't what Gaius was referring to; the man-he looked an awful lot like Merlin-but yet so different. His face resembled Merlin's-in fact when Arthur laid him down on the bed he had to do a double take to make sure that it wasn't his manservant. It wasn't until he saw the white hair that he knew it wasn't Merlin.

Someone has used serious magic to make themselves look like the young warlock-but this man just tried to save him? Why would a traitor or an assassin try to save the future king and his manservant? Those questions had no answers-only more mystery.

"No reason," Gaius dismissed, "I'll go inform the king of his condition. You watch him for now."

"Ok," Merlin shrugged as he continued to pack for the journey ahead.

… **.**

The trek back to the camp wasn't long-it took maybe a half a day by horse. There the knights began looking for this 'sword' the man had talked about. Most of them thought it was pointless; the man was poisoned-probably just hallucinating. But none complained, they're knights-they do what their king orders them to and if he wants them to find some imaginary sword then so be it,

"Keep searching," Arthur ordered.

"We've combed through the camp several times now, Sire." One of the knights pointed out, "and there is no sword with any special markings."

Arthur sighed as he gritted his teeth. This man took an arrow for him and this is the thanks he gets? He doesn't even know the name of his hero. But the young uncrowned prince won't give up that easily, "Keep looking then,"

"Merlin," the king's son called.

"Yes, my lord?" He replied.

"Have you found anything?"

"No," the warlock stated simply, "Arthur-how do we even know that the sword is still here? What if the person still-"

Merlin heard a soft noise, barely above a whisper, in his ear.

 _Follow me,_ it said, _follow me, young warlock._

Curiously he did as he walked towards the sound.

 _Over here,_ the hushed voice said again.

It sounded like a child's voice. A dead one at that-but so nice and untainted, all it wanted to do was help the young warlock find his missing object. But the voice never rose above a murmur. Every time the soft, kind voice spoke, Merlin follow-but he wasn't sure where he was going.

 _Follow me,_ it stated again.

"Merlin-where the hell do you think your going?" Arthur wondered as he went to go follow his manservant once more; but Merlin didn't reply, all he did was continue walking through the camp.

 _Under the leaves,_ the child's voice said.

"Merlin, we already looked there-the man was obviously out of him mind when he said-"

Merlin's pale hand swiped away the loose brown, dead leaves away to reveal a stunning silver sword.

Once the sunlight hit it, the sword looked magical. It looked like stars were burning on the ancient seals carved into the length. And the very tip of it still looked like as if it just came out of the fire. The handle was covered in thick black leather, comfortable to hold for long periods of time. But what was surprising about the sword was how easy it was to handle, even Merlin admitted that he could wield it without issue.

The knights were surprised also; all of them could hold the weapon and use it, no problem. Which wouldn't be so bad-if it was a normal sword. This is a magical sword-magic is no longer an accepted term in Camelot, so even if the knights wanted to use the sword, Uther wouldn't allow it.

"Come on," Arthur said as he turned his horse around, "let's get this sword back to Gaius."

...

From the time that Arthur, his knights, and Merlin left for the death ridden camp and were on their way back-the man that they had brought to Camelot; had gotten worse. All of the sweaty hair on his face was now an ivory color. His eyes seemed to be browner though; as if the man were fighting the poison coursing through his veins. The man's skin had turned to sickly pale shade as a thin layer of sweat covered his forehead.

Guinevere had tried to keep his fever down, which helped a little bit, and forced water down his sore throat which kept him hydrated at least while Arthur was away. Gaius looked after him as best as he could-but there was no way for him to help to the man unless the sword the man muttered about was real.

"His fever is getting worse," Guinevere informed as she patted the man's forehead with a cool, wet wash cloth, "he can barely breathe," she could barely look at the man without feeling like she was suffocating also. If she could take in air for him, she would; because just watching him just makes her feel helpless. Even Gaius could agree that the pain the man was feeling was contagious-but not in a physical sense-mentally.

"I know," Gaius informed, "let's just hope that sword is the cure to all of this."

Guinevere sighed as she continued to tend to the man's fever, she thought to herself, _it better be._

 **000**

The ride back to Camelot was uneventful. Arthur and Merlin playfully bickered back and forth as they always did while the knights around them just sat on their horses and looked around for anything suspicious.

As the party of knights made it back to walls of Camelot, four other armored knights stood at the gates before letting them in. When they got in, hurriedly everyone got off of their horses and went to Gaius's chamber.

Not bothering knocking, the prince barged in with Merlin and the ancient sword in tow. Both of them had a worried look on their face, as though they thought they were too late. They thought that the man had died just before they could get the sword to him, but they confusion and shock on Guinevere and Gaius's face let them know he was still alive and breathing…well barely breathing.

"I found the sword." Arthur informed.

 _I found it,_ Merlin corrected in his mind.

Carefully the prince handed the sword wrapped in an old, brown grey cloth to the old man, "Thank you; Sire."

Arthur nodded as he watched the court physician start his work.

Gaius knew what he had to do-but currently he had no idea how to break the magical item. Would it be easy? Would it be difficult? Would the weapon break like a normal weapon under pressure or would it require magic to break the enchantment? So many question swirled around in head but the answers he did know-they only rose more concern and mystery.

Guinevere bit her lip before opening her mouth, "My father can break it."

Her father is blacksmith, he knows his way around a sword. The tools he has aren't just for making weapons are armor-most of them could do come serious damage to any type of armor.  
"I'll go fetch him." Arthur informed.

"Gwen why do you go with him," Gaius offered, "it'll be quicker."

She nodded as she stood up and went to the door way with Arthur. Gwen only glanced at him and Arthur just acted like as if he were just walking around with Merlin. As they left Merlin quickly took the sword into his hands and whispered a spell, "Gladius factus fragilis,"

The warlock's eyes glowed for a second before faded back to their normal shade blue.

He looked towards Gaius, who gave him a nod to reassure the boy. Merlin examined the sword once more, memorizing each engraving and shimmer. The sword was such a beauty; magically stunning-it's such a same to have to destroy it.

Merlin lifted the magical sword above his head and then slammed it on one of the wooden table. The sword broke in to a dozen or so pieces, each of them lost its shine and became a normal bland piece of iron. While they fell to the floor, a small shock wave echoed in chambers.

When the ripple of air made loose paper fall to the floor and hair move out of place. As it passed the unconscious young man, it seemed to almost possess him making him sit up partly and gasp for air. His eyes were crystal blue at that moment but a similar color of blue mist escaped him by his air ways. The sapphire color stayed as his eyes color and his once raven black hair now was a snowy blonde shade. After a second of the curse or enchantment-what ever that sword did to him, he passed out once more-but this time he could finally sleep in peace.

 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

Three days and two nights the man slept, his heart beat was strong and was breathing clearly. The raging fever broke a while ago and Guinevere felt right leaving the man with Gaius. By the second day some had lost hope that he would wake up, Merlin and Arthur didn't; in fact it was all that Arthur could think about. He wouldn't give up hope. That man saved his life; he won't die under his care. Merlin was curious more then hopeful, he just wanted to know who the young man was and what he was doing at a camp rumored to be doing sorcery. Is he a sorcerer? Can he do magic?

On the third day nothing notable happened, Gaius worked on his sleeping remedies for Morgana, Merlin helped Arthur with his daily activities, and everyone carried on. But it was the night that brought an element of confusion and interest.

As the sun went down and each candle in the kingdom was blown out, crystal clear droplets of water rained from the heavens. First they were delicate and barely noticeable, only dancing lightly on the ground and the roofs of houses; but then the pressure slightly increased and the droplets multiplied and became bigger as they slammed into the dirt and the stone roofs above everyone's heads. Next the shots of lightning and rumbles of thunder grew in the skies. Flashes of white light appeared in the darkened sky, and flickered in people's windows. Everyone was going to have a very troubled time trying to sleep tonight. That includes the unnamed man in Gaius's care.

 _ **BOOM**_

The close lightning strike was loud enough to knock the blonde man out of the comatose stated, but he refused to wake up. He felt as if his eyelids were glued shut, every time he tried to open them, they felt like they were going to rip apart. His body still refused to move, it remained stiff as death. But he could breathe the crisp air and feel it fill his sore lungs. He could finally feel his feet and curl his toes without difficultly, but he felt cold, the only thing that failed at keeping him warm was a thin wool blanket that reached his neck.

 _Just go back to sleep,_ the man told himself as he tiled his head and tried to turn his body to get in a more comfortable position and slowly he faded in sleep but another shock of lightning exploded outside launching him into consciousness. He peeled his eyes open and looked around. It was too dark for him to see anything; all he could make out were black masses-maybe they were tables with some books on it?

He shifted his feet to the cold wooden floor and stood up.

Bad idea… his legs neglected their responsibility to work and left him slowly falling to the hard floor. There was a soft noise, but not enough to wake anyone up. Merlin and Gaius stayed in their deep sleep, but that didn't stop the man from tensing up and waiting for a sign that he was allowed to move again. This time he slowly got up; but he still needed help so he grabbed on the edge of the bed he had woken up from.

As he did he heard a yelp, it wasn't a human-it was a dog. A puppy to be precise, quickly-as fast as his stiff muscles would let him-he went to the door and opened it, next to the entrance was a small drenched puppy. Its ears folded down sadly, the puppy's long grey fur hung off the dog's small body. The pale blonde man felt sorry for it, he was left out in the rain with no one to care for him. He had been abandoned by his owner or left and the rain had made their washed away their scents and he could no longer go home.

Carefully the unnamed man knelt down and held out his hand, allowing the dog to sniff to hand and to gain his trust, "Hey, it's alright," quickly the dog scooted towards him, wanting warmth and comfort, "come here, I'll take care of you." Taking the small puppy into his arms he stood up and closed the door, "You poor little thing," he sympathized, "must be so cold and lonely." Slowly he petted the wet hair of the dog, "I'll dry you up." Without even thinking words flew out of his mouth and his eyes changed color-but only for a second and then the dog's fur was dry and warm, "There you go," he said, "all nice and dry…what's your name?" Without even waiting for answer a name flew out of his mouth, "Jackson…that'll be your name." Happily the dog nodded as he hopped onto the bed, "bed...but I just woke up." The dog cocked his head as if arguing with him, "Fine-but you better not take up all of the room."

The morning after a storm is oddly calm, there are no more clouds in the sky, and the sun shines down brightly as it dries up the excess rain water left there from the previous night. No one is out except the servants of the king and even they were complaining about it. It's too wet, the air is too moist; their shoes will get all dirty and be yelled at by their masters.

Merlin had Arthur to deal with, waking him up, dressing him, feeding him, and then telling him what he must do. Not necessarily in that order-but close enough. They hadn't spoken of the man they found or of his condition. Hope had been dulled that he would wake up, so to help themselves from losing that small light of hope, they banned the words of anything related to that man from their lips.

But little did they know the man they had pinned all their hope in was alive and well, smiling and laughing. He walked through the streets of Camelot, confused and unaware of where to go next. Nobody thought much of him, he was wearing cloths like them, walking around just like they were, but he had no purpose-which was why they pointed and stared at him. He didn't seem to mind-in fact he didn't seem to notice. Some pointed at him because of his weird hair color, almost as white as snow or the clouds. Didn't their prince bring someone with hair like that into the kingdom?

"Ow! Mother, stop that-it hurts." A little girl cried as she tried to writhe her way out of her mothers grip making the comb her mother had in her hand pull even more. The girl's hair was a fiery red that was out of control and refused to be tamed. Every time the mother tried to untangle a knot; another grew back in its place, "stop-stop!" The girl begged as the comb ripped through her hair once again.

"I'm sorry Lorraine," the mother said, "but-"

"Sorry miss," a young man interrupted, "but can I be of service?"  
"Excuse me," the brunette wondered as the young man knelt down and looked at the girl.

"I said," He repeated once more, "can I help you?" Without any force or harshness he carefully took the comb from the mother's hands. She didn't seem to have the need to yell or question his motivation for doing this. He was just so calm and sweet, so polite, and nice. "Children's hair can be difficult." He informed as he slowly began to comb the fire-like hair, "tangled, dirty, dry," his words seemed to sooth the two, the mother and her child like a hymn or lullaby, "they always seem to be able to mess it up within seconds of fixing it," a small chuckle escaped his lips as he tamed the monster of fire upon the child's hair. Enchanted could be the word for it, the way he was able to worm his way into their little situation. As those long strands of red were calm and friendly, the fingers of the man began to braid them tightly, "do you know how to braid?" The mother nodded as she watched him braid her daughter's hair, she seemed mesmerized by the simple action, "well if you wet her hair before you comb it, then it would be easier to do this." The mans words didn't mean any harm, just helpful advice as he glanced back and forth from the mother hypnotized look and her child's hair. After a few minutes he had fully braided the girl's hair and tied it with a hair tie that a mother had made from a string, "there you are…Lorraine-right?" He wondered. The girl nodded as the smile on her face brightened as she turned around and hugged him.

Snapped out of her daze the mother said, "Lorraine," as she pulled her off of the man, "I'm so sorry."

The pale blonde man chuckled but didn't scorn or yell at the girl, "It's fine Miss,"  
"What's your name?" The mothered wondered.

"Hm," he wondered, the man hadn't thought about that. Name, he had a name? If he did, he couldn't remember it. In fact he didn't recall anything…all he remembered was...nothing, every time he thought back everything got foggy and less clear as if looking through someone else's glasses or eyes entirely. Or as if those memories were gone, taken by someone-but he couldn't help but wonder why.

"What's your-"

Someone cleared the voice behind him, noticing the interruption he turned around. A man stood there, in his armor and sword; then the red cape with the crest of Camelot. He stood there on the offensive, ready to strike at any moment. The snow blonde man looked slightly confused but didn't make any advances, "Yes,"

"I need you to come with me." He informed. The confused man nodded and took slow steps towards the knight.

"Am I in trouble?" The blonde man asked.

"For your sake," he said, "you better hope not."  
 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

The prison cell wasn't as comfortable as waking up in a bed-but the blonde man was sure that it couldn't have been the worse place he's visited. The walls were made of clay, concrete, a cheep marble maybe, he didn't really care. There was a small wooden table and a slab with straw for a pillow and a thin wool blanket for warmth. He stood in the middle of it, unaware of what he was charged with. But the thought didn't seem to bother him as he went to go sit down on the hard wooden surface that was called a bed. Laying down he looked at the dirty ceiling, covered in cobwebs and dust. Spiders and rats crawled on the floors and scurried over feet and hid in small holes, bored the man took one carefully into his hand.

The rat wasn't scared; all it did was stare into the pool of sapphires that was the man's eyes, for a few minutes that's all they did. Stare into the bottomless pit of black and the endless sea of blue, the man's fingers slowly petted the rat's head as though it were his pet, "I told you Merlin-I'm going to meet the man-whether my father wants me to or not." Snapped out of his daze the man stuffed the rat in his pocket and stood up, waiting for the owners voices to come to him, "now come on-stop being such a baby about it." The owners of the voices came to his cell, allowing him to scan them in detail.

A boy, raven black hair, blue eyes, tall and in simple terms, handsome. The man next to him had short dirty blonde hair, crystal blue eyes; he was dressed more formally, almost like one of the knights the man had seen. But something was different about him; he didn't look like a peasant, too clean and wouldn't be allowed in the king's jail. Was he royalty? He looked like someone who had a title. Stuck up and arrogant seemed to come to mind while the man looked in his eyes, but he could see slowly, very slowly-the dirty blonde man was changing.

"Hello," the snow blonde said calmly.

"Hi," the dirty blonde replied, "I'm Arthur, this is my manservant-Merlin." He said gesturing to the raven headed boy. The calm pale blonde man nodded and gave them a soft smile as he said their names.

"Nice to meet you Arthur and Merlin." The man said. Merlin nodded back, saying hi in his own way, "May I ask why you are in the prison ward?" _And why I'm in the prison ward,_ he silently thought to himself.

"I came to ask something." Arthur informed.

"Oh," the man said, "ask away then." Instead of facing them he began to walk around, stare at the walls and threw the small barred opening in the far top corner letting sunlight. As he paced the light would shine through his hair, illuminating it like diamonds or white gold. Both of the men

standing outside of the door were close to being fascinated by it-but shook themselves out of their daze.

Arthur cleared his throat, "Well we were wondering why you were at a camp full of dead sorcerers." Those words stopped him cold, those 5 words; _camp full of dead sorcerers._ The man didn't have anything against sorcery or magic. He thought if someone was born with a gift, they should use it. But a camp-not a family or a person-a whole camp of them, innocent people, children, a camp full of families…and they're all dead. The snow white haired man looked at them, his sapphire blue eyes looked at them sadly and shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "I don't recall any camps…or dead people." He was sort of glad he didn't. What if he knew someone in that camp? What if his family is dead? But he couldn't help but feel guilty, what if he could have stopped it? What if he tried and failed? What if all those people dying…all of those children and families…dead because he wasn't good enough,

"What do you remember?" Arthur wondered.

The man opened his mouth as the thought back but then closed it. He looked away but then back the two men at the barred entrance, "Waking up last night-it was raining-I didn't want to wake anyone so I stayed in my bed until I drifted off back until I fell asleep again." He didn't mention the puppy who he found outside in the storm, he didn't think it was important.

"What's your name?" Merlin asked.

There was a moment of silence as the white haired man thought for a moment. Arthur looked impatient, Merlin was curious, but the man was just dumbfounded. He couldn't even recall his own name. The sapphire eyed man sighed, "I don't know."  
"What," Arthur said disbelievingly.

"I said," he repeated, "I don't know." That was truth, he couldn't recall the past few days-let alone his name, where he was born, his parents, any of his friends, did he have a wife and a kid? Those were the questions swirling around in his head, but they didn't have any answers, "I don't remember anything."

"That's impossible," Arthur said, "you're lying!"

The blonde man sighed as he shook his head, "I wish I was,"

"It must be the poison," Merlin informed, "it must have affected his memory." The sorcerer did believe the man; he could see the haze of confusion in his eyes. The pools of sparkling sapphires didn't even know where they were. The man just wanted to why he was in a dingy prison cell and why two young men were talking to him like as if he had done something wrong, "Do you know where you are?"

The pale blonde man shrugged, "I overheard the guards say the name Camelot, King Uther, and Prince Arthur." He looked towards the man next to Merlin, "I assume that you are him," to clarify he continued, "Prince Arthur,"  
The prince nodded, "Yeah, that's me."

"Heard I took an arrow for you," the young snow blonde man informed, "is that true?"

"Yes," Arthur said, "thank you for that by the way," he didn't mean it. The man knew that, but he didn't seem to mind. At least the prince didn't just write him off, he came to visit, make sure he wasn't dying or anything. But Merlin-did Merlin care? That seemed to occupy his mind mostly; but not in a romantic kind of way-just more of curiosity or as if Merlin was a puzzle, "Well-my father won't believe that you lost your memory."

"I have," the blonde man assured, "what benefit do I have to lie to you?" He honestly looked offended. As if he had never lied before in his life, he looked towards Merlin for help, "I don't remember anything."

"It could have been the magic." Merlin pointed out, "The curse could have affected his memory."

The pale blonde cocked his head confused, "Curse,"

"The sword," Arthur pointed out, "the sword you were stabbed with; don't you remember?"

The unnamed man shrugged once more as he paced the cell, "I told you Prince Arthur, I can't remember anything. Not my name, where I'm from, my parents, or even why I was at the camp."

The words surprised the heir to the throne, "You remember the camp?"

"No," the imprisoned man sighed, "I over heard the guards talking about and from what they've said I'm glad I don't." Death, death had paid a visit that camp and didn't spare anyone. He had almost taken-what ever his name is-but the horsemen spared his life for whatever reason. The signal of smoke drew the attention of Camelot knights and they had saved him-but why? Why save him? What use is he to humanity?

Arthur sighed, "My father isn't going to be happy about this."  
 **OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

"I told you, your majesty," the blonde man repeated, slightly annoyed, "my memory only goes back to last night when I awoke." They had asked him this several times now and still didn't believe a word he was saying. Nobody believed him, but he was telling the truth! He had no memories of going to that camp or what happened in the camp. Everything was just…blank. Nothing was coming back to him, not a glimpse of face or memory of home, everything was empty.

"You're telling me you don't even know your own name?" The king repeated still confused the man's answer.

The unnamed man nodded, "I am sorry, but I can recall no more."

Suddenly the doors opened, no human or warlock walked through; but people looked anyway to see what had thrown open the wooden doors in haste and ignorance of the meeting being held. No knight strode through or servant for that matter-but a bird-a magnificent bird that stretched its wings that caught the air it rode on. The glorious bird spun around the room once, then twice before landing on the unnamed man's shoulder gracefully with care.

The man did not seem to be confused by the action-in fact a warm smile formed on his face as his blue eyes followed the bird. As he landed on his shoulder he chuckled and held his arm out allowing the bird to travel further down and let his razor sharp talons wrap around his wrist. But he was in no danger-at least not with the bird anyway, "Hello there," he said talking to the bird, "what are you doing in a place like this?" The bird-an owl actually-with shinning gold feathers that glowed in the direct sunlight coming from the windows-the owl head turned and poked at the small container strapped to its back. "Oh I have a letter," the man said as he cocked his head slightly confused, "from whom?" He took the lid off the small container to reveal a rolled up piece of paper. As he took it out the bird flew back to his shoulder and peaked over at the letter as if it too wondered what were written on the white piece of paper.

"What does it say?" King Uther wondered but his tone sounded more like as if he were demanding it. The man didn't reply, his eyes scanned the page once, twice, three times, and then finally a fourth. He managed to suppress a smile from creeping on to his face as he held it out towards the king who without question took it and he too read the page. But he didn't understand; that letter was written in an ancient language-one not known to anyone in Camelot, "What does it say?" Uther repeated once again now irritated.

"It's a love letter." Chuckled the man, "it's from a woman I believe; without getting into too much detail-it's just a wife or at least his lover checking up with her lover or husband."

"Really," the king said disbelievingly, "a love letter?"

"Yes your Majesty," the man replied, "no war declaration, peace agreement, or bargaining wish-just a personal letter between two people."

"You can read this?"

The pale blonde man shrugged, "Yes, just as easy as I can speak to you, my lord."  
"Where did you learn to speak it?" He pressed.

"I don't know," the man replied as he looked towards the bird on his shoulder, "but just because I forgot my history doesn't mean I forgot how to read or write, my lord." The brain was a maze to try and learn to figure out. It worked in many ways, like the mechanics of sleeping-it paralyzes the body from moving but allows certain bodily functions to keep working. Or in a case of amnesia-the memories are not lost or permanently forgotten, they are just merely purposely misplaced to allow the person to continue to function as normally as possible after a trauma or tragic event as taken place. After that it may takes a few weeks, months, even years to regain lost memories-and the person has to be very careful about regaining them too quickly-not to say it's bad for their physical health but for their mental health and relationships with others.

"What is the language called?"

"Again, my lord, I cannot recall the name from memory, I sorry but I wish I could tell you more." The king cautiously gave the man back the letter and he did the man continued to speak to the bird, "Thank you for delivering this…Tobias is it?" The room marveled at the man's discover and whispered to each other, "Take this as a token of thanks," he offered giving the handsome owl the rat he had picked up in his prison cell. The bird took it without hesitant with its long talons and then soared into the air. It left the room leaving its audience gasping with amazement. "So, is there anything else I can help you with your Majesty?"

 **OOOOOOOOOOOO**

In the end after much back and forth the kind and the now servant of the castle came to an agreement. The man would be allowed to stay in Camelot and since he saved the precious Prince Arthur he was awarded a position in the royal household. Which means Merlin won't have to deal with an annoying royal prick alone. He would stay with Gaius and Merlin while Gaius tried to recover his lost memories. The man didn't seem to mind.

"I guess we have to give you a name until we can figure out your real name." Gaius informed, "Did you find anything in the letter?" He wondered looking at the unnamed man.

The man shrugged as he looked around, "The names don't directly translate to your language; it's more like objects, actions, places," But that didn't seem to be the only thing he was hiding about the letter, "And he doesn't clearly state names either-he must have thought the person knew he was getting the letter."

"He," Gaius questioned, "I thought you said it was a love letter?"

The man bit his lip as he looked away, "I did didn't I…"

"You lied to the king?" Merlin pointed out.

"That's an exaggeration," stated the man, "I wasn't lying-I merely told him something to ease his mind." That was the fancy way of saying, 'it's only lying if he got caught in the lie"; but they weren't mad as much as they were impressed. He had fooled everyone in the court-the king, the prince, even them!

"What did it say?" Gaius wondered.

"Nothing for you to worry about," stated the man, "it wasn't threat directed towards Camelot." But was it was threat towards someone else-towards him. It was a warning of an imminent arrival. He had to be there otherwise he'd take someone else. Someone who didn't know what he was going against.

"But as for names," informed the man, "you may call me Ethan, that's the closet name to what was described in the letter." What was in the letter was an event, an old description of childhood, something that would make any child curious…but it was the truth and he couldn't escape the truth. What the letter described was a name close to _**stolen boy from home**_ , a place in which he must never return.

 **Hello again-so did you like it? Tell me if you do because if you do another chapter will probably come sooner. Comment if you want, like and/or follow if you feel like it. Maybe there'll be an update soon-maybe a bit later. So, I'll see you later-OH and remember-stay awesome my friends-cupcakekiller12**


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